Tonight For Sure!
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: You are Walter DeNaire, and this woman is about to change your life. Elizabeth/OC, written mostly for personal reasons (though I liked how it turned out). Rated M for reasons.
1. Night

**This is a companion piece to my previous Infinite story ****_In A City Of The Future_****. The backstory of the two Elizabeths is much the same, except for the fact that this one doesn't go to Paris after her father leaves, settling instead for another shining beacon of depravity, New Vegas.**

**While **_**City Of The Future **_**was more introspective and dealt with guilt and grief, this is as close as I'll ever get to porn-without-plot, though there is plot, be warned. I wrote it to try and wed two of the most powerful emotions, love and lust, and to attempt to rid myself of my mostly illogical distaste for erotica of Elizabeth. There's a couple things out there that really do her credit and don't just use her body, strange as that may seem: they stay true to her character. I've endeavored to do the same.**

* * *

"Don't you think you've had enough?" you can't help but ask the young woman seated next to you at The Top Shelf.

"I'll tell you when I've had enough" comes the mumbled and slightly slurred response.

You shrug as the bartender approaches and asks what you'd like. "Scotch for me." you tell him. He nods and moves away.

The young woman snorts. "What?" you ask in irritation.

"Wouldn't you rather poison your liver with something a bit more special?" she drawls.

"I'm not here to get drunk. I'm here to enjoy myself."

She laughs out loud. "That's what I said to myself last night. And now look at me."

You've hardly been able to do anything else. Everything about her is breathtaking; from the gentle curls of her shoulder-length hair, a deep velvet black that contrasts nicely with her squeaky clean white blouse, to her skirt which ends just below the knees, revealing her fish-net stockinged legs and high heeled shoes. You'd never understood what some people found so attractive about stockings before, but now you think you might.

All that and you didn't even mention her face. It's round and angelic almost, with sumptuous red lips and large blue eyes you could just about fall into. You realize just a little too late that those eyes are looking right at you, and... is it just your imagination or are they appraising YOU the same way you were appraising her? She smiles and reaches under the bar. She reappears a few moments later, and sets a large glass bottle on the countertop with a loud thunk.

"It looks like crap." you say, and it does. The outside and inside of the container are coated with a strange powdery substance, and what little you can see of the liquid inside doesn't exactly fill you with optimism either; it's a thick murky brown. For a moment, you think it might even be glowing, but that could just be the way the Ultra-Lux lights are hitting the bottle. "It's better than it looks, just the opposite of me." she tells you. "A friend of mine calls it the Sierra Madre Martini. Makes sense considering it's made from the Cloud."

_You've heard of the Sierra Madre Casino. We all have, the legend, the curses. Some foolishness about it lying in the middle of the City of Dead, a city of ghosts. Buried beneath a blood-red cloud, a bright, shining monument luring treasure hunters to their doom... _The words ring through your head, a half-remembered relic of a long lonely night in the Wasteland you and your fellow wanderers spent huddled around a dying fire telling ghost stories.

"You expect me to believe you've been to the Sierra Madre?" you ask her. Maybe she's more drunk than she looks.

"Believe what you want, Mr DeNaire. Isn't that what Vegas stands for?"

"How do you know my name?" you ask warily.

"The doorman mentioned it when you came in. They seem to think well of you around here."

"I did them a favor a little while back." You're deliberately evasive about the nature of the favor; it pays to have friends, and even if it didn't, this would hardly be the right place to blab.

The young woman nods and takes another drink. "Hardly seems fair, you knowing my name and me not knowing yours. Why don't you even the odds?" you venture to say.

She laughs again. "Now that ISN'T what Vegas stands for." She looks at you in that faintly appraising manner again, and you wonder if you forgot to shave last week. "But I'm not exactly a local girl, so..." She takes a deep breath. "You can call me Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth..." you say, trying the name out. It fits.

"Or 'mistress', if you prefer." Elizabeth says sultrily. You laugh to hide the butterflies in your stomach at the intimation.

"What brings you to Vegas?" you ask as the redhaired bartender returns with your Scotch. A cold one; even better. You tip him a handful of caps, which he glances at curiously for a moment before pocketing.

Elizabeth watches him go, a strange look in her eyes, before she turns back to you. "I came here to forget." she says.

"And how's that working out for you?"

"It's not." she says sadly. "Everywhere I look, there's something that reminds me of him." She's silent for a moment, staring into her empty glass. "It's just my luck I'd wind up here. So much debt..."

You wonder about this man she mentioned, but the way her shoulders and voice have slumped warns you to leave well enough alone. "Can I buy you another?"

She looks up, weary but uplifted too. "I'd like that." she says with a smile. You've come to like her smile, even as infrequently as you see it. You raise a finger and the bartender comes back. "Another glass of whiskey." you say, pointing with a thumb at Elizabeth.

"You might as well bring the bottle," she adds. "It's gonna be a long night."

The bartender doesn't judge (outwardly at least), he just nods and moves along. "How many have you had?" you ask.

"Only a few. A few...dozen." she admits.

You raise an eyebrow quizzically.

"It runs in the family. The more we need it, the more we need _of_ it." she says. There doesn't seem to be anything to add to that, so you stop talking until the bartender returns. "I didn't ask for this." she notes with surprise at the beverage he offers.

"But it _is_ what you needed." he says.

You're about to intervene when you notice the look Elizabeth gives him: a look of familiarity and acceptance, if not exactly trust. "Friend of yours?" you ask as she deftly unscrews the Sunset Sarsaparilla cap.

"I wouldn't go that far. Let's just say we go back a ways." she says evasively.

You shake your head. "You certainly like your secrets, 'Elizabeth'."

"You don't know the half of it." she says with a gulp.

There's a strangely comfortable silence between you. When you finish your drink, you turn to find Elizabeth staring at you. "Did I get something in my moustache?" you ask, running your fingers over your upper lip.

"It's not that." she says almost dreamily. "You're...very attractive, you know that?"

"Do you always hit on complete strangers?" you ask.

"Give me a break. It's only my second time being drunk." She rests her chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear, her breath sending goosebumps down your spine. "And it'd be my first time too."

You frown. The alcohol makes it a little hard to think. "How can it be your first time if it's your second- Oh." She laughs gently. "Uh, h-how about I just take you home...?"

Suddenly she pulls away and smiles. "Aren't you a keeper."

"What?"

"You wouldn't do it, would you?"

"Do what?"

"Take advantage of me."

"No. No I would not. I may be drunk, it's kind of hard to tell, but war or no war, rape's still rape."

Her smile broadens. "It's nice to hear someone say that."

"It's true isn't it?" you ask, increasingly bewildered by this strange strange girl. Out of nowhere, you notice she's missing a finger. For some reason, it makes you uncomfortable.

"It's not exactly popular, but yes, it's true. The truth – the real truth - rarely is."

"So you're not drunk?"

"Not really," Elizabeth says with a sigh. "Just a little buzzed." She looks at you out of the corner of her eye. "What about you?"

"I honestly can't say. Give me another glass and let's see." She laughs. "And you're not...interested in me?"

"Maybe." She leans back on her chair, and your gaze drifts down to a tantalizing little glimpse of skin beneath her blouse. "What do you think?"

"I...think..." You think you'd like just one more sip of scotch for luck before you go through with this. "I think... What do I think? I think you are...exTREMEly pretty; gorgeous, even. And I think it would be a shame if we did...uh, hook up and weren't able to properly...enjoy it."

Elizabeth smiles again. She reaches down under the countertop again, giving you another look at another little sliver of skin, and passes you a little blue pill. You look at it suspiciously, then look at her suspiciously. "I forgot this world's obsession with illicit substances." she says with a purse of her increasingly kissable lips.

"Meaning?"

She closes your fingers over it, using her hand with the missing finger. What is it about that finger? "You look like a smart man, Mr DeNaire. A smart man wouldn't take this pill. He'd throw it in the nearest garbage receptacle and go about his life."

"So why'd you give it to me?" you ask.

She smiles faintly. "I figure if, like me, you've grown sick and tired of being smart, you'll take this and follow me."

"What is it?"

"Something that shouldn't be here. Like me. My apartment is through the bath house; it's the first door on the right." With that, she turns, grabs her handbag and is gone. You open your trembling hand and stare at the blue pill in the middle of your palm. You may not be a genius, or even all that smart like she said, but it doesn't take a genius to see that there's only one real choice.

The bartender doesn't need to tell this version of you that you should go. By the time he returns, you're already gone.

* * *

Elizabeth looks both surprised and delighted to see you when she opens the door. You stand there for a moment, just staring at each other. _I can't believe this is happening_ is the thought that crosses both your minds at once.

"Where are my manners?" she asks with a sudden nervous giggle. "You should come in. Please!"

You step over the threshold, removing your hat like men in the old days do on the holovids, even though there's no place to put it, as she closes and locks the door behind you. You put it on top of the television set for a moment, then decide it would slip off. You walk slowly around the sitting area, prolonging the exquisite agony of waiting by first balancing it on the globe, then on the table lamp, and then setting down on the couch instead. You note with irrational trepidation that there are two beds, and turn to point this out to Elizabeth. Whatever senseless words were about to come out of your mouth turn into a surprised _mmph_ as she captures your lips with her own. Your nervous system is hit with a thousand-watt-voltage; your arms instinctively go about her slender waist.

After an all-too-brief time, she pulls away. You notice somewhat dazedly that her cheeks, formerly deliciously pale, have definitely turned pink. "I'm sorry." She startles you by apologizing. "I wasn't lying, not...entirely. It _is_ my first time..."

_This cannot be happening,_ you tell yourself. _Probably some bad daturana root..._ Even if it isn't a dream, what could you possibly have done to deserve this?

Enough thinking. You pull her close and kiss her again, harder this time. She gives just as good as she receives and your eyes fly open in surprise when she startles you again by grabbing hold of your ass. She pulls away again and starts to apologize. "I'm sorry; I-I got carried away-"

"It's fine." you tell her. "Really."

"You mean it?" she asks with an unusual pang of innocence in her voice.

"Really." you assure her. "But only if I get to do the same thing to you."

She nods eagerly. Somehow you manage to refrain from kissing her as your hands move down from her waist to her ample behind. It was entirely worth forgoing another taste of her mouth just to see the look on her face. She squeaks faintly as you rub her backside through her skirt with your fingertips. It's all becoming a bit much for the man downstairs, and regretfully you inform her, "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up." She looks almost horrified for a moment before you clarify, "I mean the standing up part. It's about all I can do to keep from falling to the floor and taking your clothes off there."

A relieved smile dawns on Elizabeth's face. "Which bed do you want?" she asks. The one behind you to the left of the door has a moderately decorative though functionally useless sliding screen nearby, but the one further back to your left feels more romantic somehow. You take Elizabeth by the hand and guide her over to it. She spies some curtains on the wall and, with another amazing smile, she pushes you down onto the mattress with one hand while readying the curtains with the other. All you can do is watch her as she slides gracefully around the bed, pulling the curtains to as she goes. "Did I mention you're beautiful?" you ask.

"Perhaps," she says as she tugs the curtains closed and looms over you, her still-covered breasts so close you can almost taste them. "Wouldn't hurt to say it again though."

"You're beautiful." you tell her when you take her face in your hands and pull her down to kiss you. "You're beautiful." you tell her when you break the kiss and try to tug her down onto the bed next to you. "You're beautiful." you tell her when she grins and pulls away. She sits down on her side of the bed and begins to take off her shoes. You can just about see her skirt from the corner of your eyes and your hand creeps toward it. Elizabeth lets out a squeal as you give her rear end a pinch, and makes to hit you with one of her heels. You grab her by the wrist and throw the deadly weapon away, pulling her close. "Wait, wait!" she giggles desperately just as you're about to try and kiss her.

"Now what?" you ask.

"We're still dressed." she reminds you with a pretend glare.

"You do me and I'll do you." you offer, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"That's the plan all right." she says, trying and failing to do the same. She sits up suddenly. "Come on, Mr DeNaire!"

"Walter," you groan as you struggle to your feet. "But how are we going to do this? I'm over here, you're over there-"

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. "It's not that hard to figure out." She holds out her arms and nods for you to do the same. "Catch!" She jumps nimbly over the bed and lands in your arms. You grin down at her and toss her onto the bed. She lands on her front, but before she can try to roll over, you give her upturned bottom a smack. "Stay right where you are, young lady." you say as huskily as you can. "Let me do all the work."

"If you manage to get my brassiere off, I might not slap you back." she retorts, but keeps still.

The first order of business is her blouse. You slide your fingers under it, biting back the urge to tickle her as you do, and lift it up. "Can you raise your arms for me...?" you ask.

"I thought you said you were going to do all the work." she sighs.

"Well, I didn't exactly get this far in my head." you say.

She turns her head and glares at you, but raises her arms anyway. "Thanks." you grunt and pull her blouse over her head, only to come across a problem. "Uh..."

"Now what?" she asks, her voice muffled by her own shirt.

"I forgot about the buttons."

She sighs loudly. "Can you pull my shirt down?" she asks. You do so and let go as she turns over, still glaring at you. "You know you're getting a spank of your own now, right?"

"All part of the plan." you say with a leer. She struggles not to smile as she fumbles with the buttons.

"One, two, three, four, five. There." She takes the blouse off and tosses it right into your face. "Want me to roll over and play dead?" she asks with a bit of her old drawl slipping back in.

"Only until I get your clothes off." you tell her while you struggle with her blouse.

The mattress creaks faintly and you finally pull the blouse away. A faded scar on her back catches your eye. "What the hell is this?" you ask her. She doesn't say a word. "Elizabeth?" you ask again.

"I don't want to talk about it." she says into the pillow.

You lean over and kiss it gently. She stiffens. "It's okay." you tell her. "I'm gonna keep going, all right?" She nods; at least you think she does.

Next up: the skirt. You slip your hands under her stomach and, somewhat to your surprise, manage to undo the buckle easily. You lift it away and toss it onto the railing at the foot of the bed next to her blouse. The left stocking comes next, then the right, and soon Elizabeth is lying there in nothing but her underwear.

You climb up beside her and wrap an arm about her shoulders. "Hey." She turns to look at you, and you press your mouth against hers gently. "Do you want to keep going?" you ask her at length.

"Of course I do." she says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Her voice is louder than she meant it to be; she stops, closes her eyes, counts to three, and then opens them. "I need this." she whispers. "I need you."

You kiss her again, and you don't stop kissing her as she struggles with your clothes. You help her as best as you can; you don't stop kissing her even when she gives you that spank she promised as you both remove your trousers. You take your lips away and you both stare into each other's eyes as the underwear comes off.

You run your hands down her side and down her legs, loving the way her breathing changes ever so slightly. She feels like paper, but smoother than paper, so...not paper. But paper is the only word that comes to mind, and you're getting closer to having no words at all.

"Do you want to look or...?" Elizabeth asks, like she dares not even think about the other options.

"I don't have to." you tell her. "You're beautiful."

She smiles, and even as she does, you can see tears start to well up in her eyes. "How are we going to do this?" you wonder out loud.

She sniffs before she replies. "From...from what I read, it's easier if the woman is on her back at first so the man can..."

"Okay," you say. "Come on." You put your hands on her hips to help roll her over onto her back. You struggle not to look like you said you didn't need to, and suddenly you don't. You get yourself ready, and you look back up at her one last time. She nods, whispers "Please" in a barely audible voice, and then you're in, you're home. Your bodies tense; she lets out a quavery _whoa_, and then another, less quavery one, and then her head falls back onto the pillow and she just looks beautiful. You make a conscious effort not to fall down on top of her; instead you ease onto her, into her, burying your face in her neck. You can feel her heart beating against yours, you can feel it thrumming against your cheek, and that's all you need.

Eventually, someone starts to move. You're never sure who, but someone starts to grind their hips against the other's, and you move deeper inside her, you feel like you're going to explode, but somehow you don't, you keep moving, thrusting back in, pulling back out, over and over, each time hurts more than the last, but you keep going, you keep going, the little whimpers she makes urging you on though your body feels like it wants to collapse into nothing, she isn't even saying anything, she's just making these quiet little sounds in the back of her throat, and you feel them, you feel them rattle down your spine into your bones and the bottoms of your feet, you feel her everywhere, around you, inside you, no you're inside her, you're inside her and it feels so good, it feels right, you don't care about anything, you don't even remember what there is to care about, you keep going, you keep going, you keep going, you keep going, you keep going, until that feeling inside you starts getting louder and louder and louder and louder and louder, but you keep going even though it hurts, keep going because it feels so right, and then it's over, you're done, you finish inside her, and a little part of your brain thinks _oh shit_ and it's lost in this wave of ecstasy and _nothingness_ that sweeps over the both of you. Her hands turn into fists as she feels it too, and she lets out this groan, this sigh, this whatever, that drowns out all the other sounds, the blood rushing through your ears, the groans you yourself are making, and it's just her for hours on end, though the hours are only minutes and the minutes are only seconds until you come back to life and fall off of her, fall off of the bed. She laughs and you laugh and the laughs turn into breaths, one after another after another, trying to catch up with the way they were.

After a while, you turn to her and say, "Whew." Elizabeth says "whew" right back and you both laugh again. Then at the same moment, you fall into each other's arms and just lie there, feeling her skin on yours, and her breath against your neck. You think you manage to kiss her before you fall asleep, but like so many other things it's a little unclear.


	2. Day

Something doesn't feel right. You've never slept naked; it just isn't safe. Reluctantly, you open your eyes, and it all makes sense the moment you see her. _Did we seriously...? _you can't help wondering to yourself as you cup her beautiful face in your hand, rubbing a thumb against her silk-smooth cheek. She stirs in her sleep and you have to force yourself not to kiss her.

You inch back carefully to get a better look at Elizabeth's incredible body. Her breasts are perfect. Fuck anyone who says that more than a handful is a waste. Fuck 'em with a goddamn Nuka Breaker. They're perfect. You reach down and take one of her perfect little nipples into your mouth (you can't stop using that fucking word; it's the only word that fits), twirling your tongue around the areola and just kneading and sucking until you hear her whimper somewhere above you. You smile around her breast, but sadly the time has come to part ways. You give her now-erect nipple a farewell kiss, and move on to the main attraction.

You slide up to eye level. You wouldn't miss this for the world. Slowly, gingerly, you slip your hand between her legs; you don't want to wake her too soon! Being somewhat new to this as well, your general technique can be described as 'poke and hope', which seems to do the trick. Elizabeth bites her lip and screws up her face in an extraordinarily endearing manner, especially when you consider that you're fairly certain she's still asleep. Not for long though; you find yourself entirely unable to stay the course and move in for the kiss. As you slide your tongue in between one set of lips, your finger slides between the other. She awakens with a gentle _mmh_ of surprise, and breaks the kiss long enough to ask "What are you-" before she goes _ohh_ (or _uhh_ , it's a little hard to focus) and squeezes her legs together around your hand. "Right there, right there...oh my god..." she whispers. You smile at her and start to tease the outside of her vagina with the rest of your fingers. Your thumb finds the sweet spot almost by accident, and her whole body seizes up. "Oh fffffFUCK!" she gasps loudly. "Oh _fuck_, _fuck_, _fuck_ , _fuck_." she starts to pant. Eventually she falls backward onto the pillow and just lies there, her breathing fast and shallow. You manage to pry your hand free and head for the bathroom to try and freshen up. When you return a few minutes later, Elizabeth is only barely more coherent. "Where did you pick that up?" she asks hoarsely.

"I think it was mostly instinct." you say with a shrug.

She smiles wearily. "Wouldn't mind waking up to _that_ for the rest of my life." she murmurs. You walk back around the bed and fall down beside her, your hands itching for another go. Instead, you lean in and kiss her passionately. No tongues this time, just the tantalizing feel of her lips brushing against yours.

"Good morning." she says when she pulls away.

"Good morning." you say in response and decide to leave it at that.

Almost in unison, you drape your arms around your lover's midriff and pull them closer, nestling against each other tenderly. Elizabeth sighs, sending that feeling from last night right into your bones again. "Is this real? I mean, are we, like, an...item or something?" you ask at length.

"We could be. Would you like that?" she asks.

"Uhh, yeah..." You're a little surprised she has to ask. "I mean, I don't know anything about you, except what you're like in bed..."

Her smile starts to fade. "I'm messed up. What else is there to know?"

"Who the hell isn't messed up?" you say. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look at her. "Elizabeth; is that even your name? Who are you? Where do you come from? What happened to your back? What happened to your _finger_? What happened to...what happened to you?" The questions come out one after the other. You're not even sure which of them you want the answers to.

Elizabeth is silent for such a long time that a strange uninvited thought dances across your mind for a moment: _she's broken_. She gets to her feet without saying a word and bends over to retrieve her lingerie. You're so captivated by her silence you don't even try to admire the view. "Elizabeth?" She's silent all throughout the long laborious process of getting dressed. You lay there naked as the day you were born, wondering if this is how it ends, not even daring to get up and get dressed with her.

Finally, she's done. She flips her hair back and walks slowly toward the door. "Elizabeth!" you call. She doesn't look at you, not even when she closes the door behind her.

You curse under your breath as you struggle into your clothes and hurry after her. When you open the door however, you find yourself not in the familiar hallway of the Ultra-Luxe but somewhere else entirely.

* * *

How would you even describe this? Describing implies some level of knowledge, however cursory. This...this is...insane.

"No it isn't." Elizabeth says from beside you. "It's the only sane thing in any of the worlds I've ever been to."

You wonder if you said that out loud. You wonder what in god's name you're even looking at. You _think_ you're looking at what they call the ocean, with strange stone structures jutting out every so often to touch the sky. And the sky...are those stars? They can't be the same ones from the Wasteland; they're too big, too...beautiful. And there are so many of them. The stone buildings go on as far as the eye can see, and there are these strange lights on top. Out of curiosity, you turn and look at the door you came in from. It's gone. You're standing at the foot of one of those towers.

"What the hell did you just do?" you ask in disbelief.

"What I was born to do." she says. "Come on."

Elizabeth leads you down the stone steps to the water's edge. It doesn't look like any water you've ever seen before; it's too beautiful. Everything is. Even her. She has this strange far-off look in her eyes, like she's hardly even here, wherever here is. You're too afraid to speak, too afraid even to gasp in awe as wooden planks fly out of nowhere to form a bridge at your feet. She steps on them without looking, without caring. You try to say something, but she turns to you and the words turn to ash...or sand. You follow her hesitantly across the boardwalk, for that must be what it's called. What else would you call it?

You come to another door, identical to the one you just left. You turn back to find it, but it's lost in the sea of seas. The sea of towers. The sea of...light...houses. The endless sea of endless doors.

You think you're going to be sick. She still doesn't look at you, merely pushes open the door. Whatever's inside blinds you, yet you stagger toward it. You have to know. Have to know what? Everything.

You're back in the Ultra Luxe. Back in the Top Shelf. "Is that..."

Elizabeth nods. "That's you. And that's me. Only it isn't."

"What do you mean, 'it isn't'?" As you watch, Elizabeth gets up and walks away. Not your Elizabeth but the one at the bar. You finish your drink (it can't be you. Is this a mirror?) and open your hand slowly. You open your hand slowly as well. You know what you'll see. You see nothing. You see the little blue pill she gave you last night. You stare at it for eternity, then you toss it to the ground and grind it into the marble floor. "Wait, that isn't right. I...I took the pill." you mumble.

"You always do. And you always don't." she whispers.

You've had enough. You stumble backward through the door, back into the light, the...crummy electric light of the Ultra Luxe. You're back.

You ARE going to be sick.

* * *

Her voice comes to you from miles and miles away. "I was born almost four hundred years ago, and I'm only nineteen."

"When I was a child, there was an...accident. My father sold me, to pay off his gambling debt. And I forgive him for that. I forgive him for bringing himself the girl. I forgive him for not trying harder, because I've seen what happens if he does try harder."

"They tortured me. Tortured me, because I refused to be his daughter. They tortured me for months. That's how I got this scar. I have others too, you just can't see them."

"And then he left me. All alone. You're the first human being I've talked to. The Luteces...they don't count. They're like me. They don't...count as human."

"I haven't forgiven him for that."

"'There's always a lighthouse.' You've seen it. You just don't know it. 'There's always a man.' Are you a man? Or a slave? 'There's always a city.' Cities never change. All that changes are the variables. The who, the what, the where, the when, and the why."

"'Are you more amazed at how things change, or how they stay the same?'"

* * *

"You should find him." you mutter. Somehow you know without opening your eyes that she's perched on the edge of the bed, still not looking at you.

"Why?" she asks simply.

"I don't know." you mutter, and she laughs.

"I know where he is. I'll always know. The one place I should never go." she whispers.

"Go. Break the rules. That's what you do." you mutter.

She laughs again. "The rules don't apply to me. Not any more." She's lost in thought, then, "Is this what gods do?" You say nothing. "'Another headache; another heartbreak. I'm so much older than I can take.'" she sings to herself. You say nothing.

The mattress creaks and you can feel her soft breath on your face. "Do you love me?" she whispers.

"Yes." you whisper.

"Why?" she asks.

"...I just do." you say.

The mattress creaks again. Her hand brushes your face. "That might have been a little much for a first date." she whispers.

You move the corners of your mouth as much as you can. "You show that to all your dates?"

She presses her lips to yours, and you could die. "I meant what I said. You were my first."

"I don't deserve you." you say.

"Neither do I." You wonder if she means that she doesn't deserve herself or that she doesn't deserve you.

At last, you open your eyes, and for a moment, you wish you hadn't. She's so close it hurts; so beautiful, so delicate, so broken that it hurts. You kiss her again, and again, and again, and again, until you fall asleep in her arms.

There is a song in your head that night, a song you've never heard before. There's only one place it could have come from.

_See the pyramids along the Nile..._  
_ Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle..._  
_ Just remember, darling, all the while..._  
_ You belong to me._

_ See the market place in old Algier..._  
_ Send me photographs and souvenirs..._  
_ Just remember when a dream appears_  
_ You belong to me._

_ I'd be so alone without you._  
_ Maybe you'd be lonesome too, and blue._

_ Fly the ocean in a silver plane..._  
_ See the jungle when it's wet with rain..._  
_ Just remember till you're home again..._  
_ You belong to me._

_ I'd be so alone without you._  
_ Maybe you'd be lonesome too, and blue._

_ Fly the ocean in a silver plane..._  
_ See the jungle when it's wet with rain..._  
_ Just remember till you're home again..._  
_ You belong to me._


	3. Disclaimer

BioShock and BioShock Infinite, as well as all the characters and places associated with them, are properties of 2K Entertainment.

The Fallout series, as well as all the characters and places associated with it, is owned by Bethesda.

I own nothing except the way the words are arranged. (Possibly not even that.)


End file.
